The Heart of a Poet

Dried leaves,
Autumns township
Kindled by a night of prayer,
In his own shade
The seared breast
Laced with desires spine,
The Poet’s golden horn swoons,
Spreading its wings
Turning in, a silenced pedestal
Fragranced with bouquets
Of invading beauty
Until, the heart opens it
And we all follow…

 

 

(c) A Hannan

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Away with Words

Shattering your night with wine soaked wings

My eye, a lone star ceiling a funeral, one

Beautiful unended union of arms

Falling into arms, falling to implore us

To where lust shredded, lingers.

~

I speak of union. What does this mean?

Imagine your rose falling into my arms,

Those arms falling to your Beloved,

Laughter’s treasure caressing no end.

~

O! How I wish I could exile my tongue, merely taking you home.

(c) A Hannan